Cheering relatives sat in the bleachers near the finish line instead of standing across the street.

These were the split-second choices that protected a Katy father and daughter, running together in the Boston Marathon, and their loved ones from a pair of explosions on Monday that killed three and wounded more than 140 people.

Fred Knies and Alden Knies Fedke were among roughly 200 people from the Houston area and several hundred other Texans who participated in the race.

Three miles from the finish, Fedke began telling her father: "Please take a break. Take a break," but caught a second wind and soldiered on. Knies would finish before her and recuperate in a medical area.

"If I had walked for even just a minute, I would have been there and my family would have been right there as well because they were waiting for me to cross that area," she said.

"I remember seeing 4:03 when I finished," Fedke said.

The first blast happened about five minutes later. After finishing, the 28-year-old went to claim her belongings.

"You could hear the explosions from there. No one was sure what was going on," she said.

Knies, 59, was on a stretcher when he heard the first blast. "Moments later, we heard the next one," he said. "I was there for maybe 10 more minutes, and as soon as I walked out of the medical tent, it became just mayhem — ambulances and police pushing everyone back. It was heartbreaking."

Others from the Houston area witnessed various stages of the commotion.

Houston runner Lauren McCreary was nearing the finish line when the explosions occurred.

"I was at the 26-mile marker with .2 to go and saw and heard both bombs, and then the guys in front of me turned and started running toward us and said, 'Run!'"

In the confusion after, it took McCreary hours to make it to her hotel. "Still in shock, sitting in hotel lobby trying to figure out what to do next," she texted. "Terrifying, tragic day."

Houston lawyer Howard Bookstaff, 52, was able to complete the race, and his son was among the spectators.

The attorney said the explosions happened at the "worst possible time for a marathon" — between 3:30 and 4:30 — when many runners finish, then congregate to walk, recover, get food and water and retrieve their belongings.

"That's why you have such high injuries," Bookstaff said. "It's such a high volume of people there."

Monday was the "scariest day of our lives" for Sugar Land resident Lynn Borker and her 26-year-old son, Ryan, a three-time marathoner who attends MIT and was participating in Boston for the first time.

"We heard a small blast and then we heard a huge blast," she said. "We heard sirens immediately. We looked out the window, and there were people missing limbs, blood everywhere. ... You cannot even imagine the adrenaline."

Sally Coolidge Cheadle, of Kingwood, said she was stopped on the course at 25.7 miles. She and the other runners waited over an hour without knowing what was going on before the police decided to evacuate the area. She finally was able to meet up with her friend Ann Radney. They didn't make it back to their hotel until 6:45 p.m.

"The people of Boston have been so helpful and giving to those in need," Cheadle posted on Facebook, "offering their homes for people, donating blood, sharing cell phones with those that had none, helping track down family members lost. Thank you, Boston, for caring."